FFCC: Memories
by GSAlex
Summary: Alexx leads his caravan from Tipa, on a mission to save his town, find romance, and grow up.
1. Chapter 1

Section 1: The Heroes

I had learned to spot spells before the elements came to life beneath my feet. I rolled to the left, and quickly regained my composure. Surely enough, where I once stood was now in flames. I gauged the distance between my foe and myself. Around twenty meters distanced my blade from his helm. Covering that much distance in enough time to avoid another spell wouldn't be a difficulty; all that I had to do was rush him, then defeating his staff with my steel would be a relatively simple matter.

Apparently, I spent too much time thinking over a plan. I didn't even see him charging up his next spell. With the time that I had left to me, I decided to perform some damage control. I leapt into the air. Just leaping wasn't enough, though, as the blizzard then caught my feet. I raised my sword and then decided to break through the ice, and continue with slightly frostbitten shoes. He didn't seem to want to give me any opportunity to do such, and began closing the gap between the two of us. I broke the ice, and flipped back, just in time to avoid having his staff come down on my helm.

I brought the steel down on to his staff. Hard. It was all that he could do to parry. Unfortunately for him, parrying my blow wasn't enough to hold me off. Smiling, I flipped my sword to its backside, and I brought the back of the blade onto the backside of his head.

"You owe me one striped apple, my friend."

Though I couldn't see it through his armor, I could tell that he was smiling.

Of course, after our sparring match, we bowed to one another. Sqzaj and I were trying our hardest to prepare each other for the coming travels; if we were to lead the next caravan, then we should be at least a little stronger than your average Clavat or Yuke.

As a Clavat, I stood only slightly shorter than six feet. Since we were only sparring, I mainly wore a combination of street clothes, and armor. Nothing too fancy, as that would only slow me down. Whenever I was sparring with Sqzaj, I wore a helm that I had obtained from a friend's father, who happened to be a Lilty blacksmith. Needless to say, it was high quality. Underneath my light chain mail, I had on a fine Selkic cotton shirt, green and oddly warm. I had the traditional slacks that most Clavats wore proudly, the Clavatan symbol on my belt-buckle. Physically, it could be said that I was handsome. With my blonde hair, and green eyes, sometimes I was mistaken for a Selkie. That was not the case for my friend.

I harbor no ill feelings towards the Yuke race; Sqzaj was, and I hope always will be, one of my closest friends. This is not to say, though, that he was a sharp looker. For unknown reasons, the Yukes all wear armor over all of their body, save for their wing-like arms. For even more inexplicable reasons, no one ever asks the reason for the strange behavior. I guess that that would be impolite, but it wouldn't matter to good friends. Still, I never asked, and I would bet a golden striped apple that I never would. He wore an odd arrangement of armor, a little bit of Selkic, a little bit of Liltic, a little bit of Clavatan, a little bit of Yukic, the mismatching of which added a certain flair to his aesthetic appeal.

There were two thoughts of the Yuke race. Some thought that the Yukes were giant, bird-like beings that were sagacious without reason. The reason for this was because of their stature and wing-like, feathered arms. The Yukes stood in much the same manner that all of the races did, however, they were more haunched than the rest, and their armor seemed to bulge at particular sections. The wing-like arms were long and broad; their wingspan was about one and a half their height. The only other supporting evidence of this theory was the large, bumpy formation at the tip of the face, like a portruding nose, or a rounded beak. Those who did not believe in the idea of a bird-Yuke thought that the armor was nothing more than a casing for the Yuke's soul. This group thought that the Yukes were souls, kept together by armor. The Yuke's relation to magic, and their worldly-wise nature supported this idea. Though, whether bird or spiritual entity, so long as their heart shone like gold, friendship with them was more precious than mythril.

We walked back to my parents house together; not only was it supper-time, but sparring that intensely really takes a lot out of you.

Along the way, we happened upon one of my close friends.

"Oy!" cried Nathan.

"Yo!" Sqzaj and I called back.

He ran as he usually did, which was quite bemusing. He put his arms behind his back, and they flailed in the breeze as his oak-colored cloak did. He looked much like I did, though his eyes were blue, and his hair was the same oak color as his cloak. He wore a brown shirt, which seemed to be much warmer than my Selkic shirt. Of course, because I was slightly older than he was, I was reaching the maximum height that a Clavat could aspire to. He seemed as though he would grow taller, but until that day, I would stand a good four inches taller than he did.

"Are we still to have supper at your family's house?" Nathan inquired.

"Of course! Would you be kind enough to ask for some of your mother's infamous guard potato stew?" I responded.

Nathan pulled back his cloak, revealing the container of the glorious stew. That, likely, drew a smile to Sqzaj's face, and saliva to my palate. Nathan grinned, then drew the container back, hiding it again with his cloak. I moaned with frustration, and both of my friends had a hearty laugh as my stomach showed that it shared my opinion on the matter.

"We should get going then!" Sqzaj exclaimed, "'lest your hunger consume you!"

Upon arrival at my den, I knocked thrice, and then shouted, "I'm home! And I've brought Sqzaj and Nathan with me!"

My elder brother, Ramsey, saw the party that I had formed, and let out a more-than-audible sigh.

"I thought that you were bringing Jorti, Skott and Kay!" he complained.

"Unfortunately," I said, "Jorti has a family get-together, Skott is bedridden, and Kay had prior engagements."

Ramsey turned to the ground, disappointed, but only for a moment. His smile then returned to his face. He really liked to talk philosophy with Skott, and he must have been looking forward to company with Kay and Jorti.

Just as quickly as he looked averted his gaze, he brought an arm around my neck, and with his other hand, he began to frazzle my hair.

"Well then, just make sure you talk with them earlier next time, then, okay?" He said.

With practice, I had figured my way out of his deadlock. I knelt down, and then slid backwards away from him. To this, he smiled. He grabbed me by the leg, tickled my foot, and then allowed me to get out of his arms' reach.

"You've still got a ways to go before you can best me," he said, laughing.

I turned to my companions. Sqzaj looked stoic, and Nathan was doing all that he could to prevent himself from bursting into a fit of laughter. I had told him the other day that I was almost entirely certain that there wasn't a man alive that could best me in battle after I finished sparring with him. Apparently, this was still untrue. I looked to my friends for help, but they didn't seem to want to get involved.

I turned, in dismay, as Ramsey started to edge nearer to me, an evil gleam in his eye. This caused me to flinch.

Luckily for me, my father came in, just in time, to save me.

Grabbing Ramsey by the ear, "And you're years before you can beat me!" he scolded.

My friends joined me in laughter this time.

It was a good meal, made all the better by the good food, the good company, and the good music. My dad had a knack for playing his guitar. As legend had it, it was made from the ancient oak of the Mushroom Forest, which was quite impressive. Furthermore, it was odd that an alchemist, who was supposed to be so wound up in his studies and teaching, would have time to pick up the guitar. The outside world never really understood my father. Some called him a crackpot, others said that he had no room for family in his lifestyle. One would think that by marrying Mother, who was also an alchemist, and by supporting and schooling two children of their own that they would have changed their opinions, but then the masses began to think that he had only wed and fostered children to destroy the dark public image placed upon him. Most anyone who sat down and talked with Father would realize that he was a very kind and gentle man. He cooked. He cleaned. The only thing that he primarily left to Mother was organizing the notes that they took.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm going out! I'll be back before the night is over!" I called to my parents.

"Wait!" my father called after me. "Put this on, and you'll be keeping it this time." He handed me his favorite green cloak, which, normally, he only allowed me to wear during times of peril, or while sparring with Sqzaj. This particular cloak was a hand-me-down and an heirloom of my tribe's family. It was to be handed down to me, as it was decided long ago, when Ramsey gave up his dreams of caravanning in search of the knowledge of alchemy. Ramsey was every bit as much an alchemic prodigy as I was a fighting prodigy, even if, at the moment, he was able to catch me off guard. I made a promise to myself not to let my weakness and inexperience faulter me again.

"But, fa-" I began, in protest.

"No, no," he interjected, "Don't worry about it, son. I think that it's high-time that I handed it down to someone, and it won't fit Ramsey. I suppose it might, physically speaking, but the feel of it will never be the same on him as it would be on you. Just wear it proudly," and, he added with a smile, "and try not to lose it."

I met up with my friends at the stairwell ascending from my burrow. Not missing any faces, I took lead, and we headed off, only knowing the thrill of the night-life, and only fate knowing the direction that our gallavanting would lead us to.

On the outskirts of town, we happened upon a toy store. It was one of Nathan and Sqzaj's favorites, and, though I prefered the weapons stores, even I was drawn in by the illustrious lighting. It was obvious that the sign was illuminated by magicite, but, save for Skott, and occasionally, Sqzaj, none of us really were interested in it enough to look farther than to how to use it.

Even Nathan could provide you with the textbook answer as to how to use magicite. "By calling out the name of the magicite, those with special armor or weaponry can collect the magicks, and could call upon their might through thought." Nathan, Sqzaj, Jorti, Kay, and I had all recieved our families' cloaks. Skott didn't appear to have one, and he would change the subject quickly if we ever inquired about his lack of a cloak. He didn't really want to tell us about the situation, and, as friends, we all grew to accept his wishes.

We were guided through the halls of the store by the friendly Yuke artisan. He was a tailor, but, first and foremost, he was a craftsman. He loved to build toys for children, and he always seemed to have just what you were looking for. He was a blood-relative of Sqzaj's, Sqzaj's uncle. So, the name of "Uncle Troiley" stuck. Everyone, even Uncle Troiley's siblings reffered to him as Uncle Troiley.

"Hello there, young ones! Sqzaj! You look a good deal taller than when last I saw you!" The old man said, with an invisible smile.

We smiled as we greeted the man.

"Hello, Uncle Troiley!" we shouted in unison.

"What brings you all out so late tonight?" the old man inquired, a hint of mysticism in his voice, "the goblins like to come out at dark times like these!"

Whether the kindly man meant that in jest, or as a warning, I could not tell, but I was certain that he had meant to say that. He seemed to be a very knowing man. When he spoke, all were captivated by his voice, and not a bit of breath was wasted; he always seemed to know something that he shouldn't.

"We will." I said, almost seeming as though I had taken charge for the group. I stepped back into line, and we began our window-shopping. Whether it was a toy sword for me, a set of special, colored building blocks for Nathan, or folklore book for Sqzaj, anything for recreational purposes could be purchased in the store. Not that we were actually going to buy anything in this visit. It wasn't that the place was too hard to afford to pay in, it was that we didn't have money at the time; searching through the shelves was enough for us. Uncle Troiley didn't seem to mind. As I've said, he was a kindly man. Even if he were looking for a profit from us, he knew that we would bring our parents in to buy the knick-knacks that we enjoyed. He merely smiled at us as we gazed over the toys and joys, and, though we could not see the size of the smile, we could still feel its warmth.

Finally, we bid the man farewell, and set off, deciding to take the scenic route to our respective homes. Turning the bend that began the residential area, on the outskirts of town could be heard faint whines. Probably faint from the distance, I had decided.

"Something troublesome is happening," Sqzaj said, solemnly.

"And I bet there's something we can do," Nathan added.

"And I bet there's something that we're going to do," I corrected.

Being a little late to get home would only be a small penalty if it meant that I could exact justice.

To everyone's surprise, there was, on the outskirts of town, and, just as Uncle Troiley had said, a goblin. I had never seen one before, aside from in my father's textbooks. The sheer monstrosity of the being was unable to be depicted through mere illustration. It's hideousness could only be seen first-hand. Its skin was a pale pinkish color, and it appeared to be wearing an ancient Lilty-type armor. The being's wrinkles unfolded over one another, and it appeared to be plump. Needless to say, it was a scary sight. To make matters worse, it was holding a small child. The whimpers weren't because he was in the distance, but because the child was weakened! From miasma poisoning!

The monster had dragged the child outside the area of the town's crystal's influence. The young lad seemed to have lost consciousness now, and I would think that that would be for the best. The poison is said to have horrible effects on the mind if you were still consciously breathing, not damaging at first, but painful beyond belief.

We were in range, and the child's time was thinning. I looked to Sqzaj, and then to Nathan. We nodded in unison. We had a plan, but it was a grim one. We had all left behind our weapons, as we didn't believe that we would need them for a night wandering the town, and a trip to the toy-store. I leapt into the air, and Nathan caught me. He heaved me in the direction of the monster as hard as he could.

Sqzaj had cast a blizzard spell, not too far in front of my current mid-air position. The spell caused an icesickle to form where I would be in midair. Although it took a good deal of agility, I flipped around to meet the sickle in midair, and hurled it at the goblin with all of my might. Luckily, the blow landed between the back of the beast's neck, and the armor, killing the monster. Though, the fight wasn't over yet. There was still the matter of the child outside of the influence of the chalice, some dozen yards ahead of me.

I put all of my effort into a mad sprint, nearly missing the child when I reached for him. I thought that the area outside of the influence would be painful to be in, but it didn't appear as such. I drew in a sigh of relief as I headed back, and it was as though some thing had grabbed my lungs, and refused to let go. My vision grew twisted and black, and there were distorted voices in the back of my head. Still, I marched on, collapsing not far from the influence of the town's crystal.

_Huh,_ I thought, _I die before I get to the caravan? That's a little disappointing..."_

Just then, I felt two feathery hands scoop me up and carry me to my house. I didn't let go of the boy that I had rescued. He was my trophy for this round. I wondered why the feathered man was being so kind to me, when I recognized a piece of armor on the bird-man's arm. It was Selkic.

_Oh, _I thought, _ So, I don't die yet. Good thing that my friends are around. Otherwise, that goblin might have had something more to eat than he had bargained for. I wonder what handsome things taste like..._

And, from there, I passed out.

There was a void. The fact that the void was so empty is what made what could have been a simple dream, a nightmare. In each direction that I looked, all I could see was emptiness. I had expected to see familiar faces, somewhere, but there was nothing. There was no one there that I could talk to. There was no one there that I could feel. There was no one there who I could listen to. It was so empty, so derived of feeling... I felt alone. For the first time since meeting with my friends, I felt alone. It was a cold feeling. To make matters worse, I was physically cold. It was as if something with cold hands was forcing me deeper into this void. Some giant was forcing me into a void deeper than anything else that I had seen or known. It seemed as though the giant had seperated me from everything else so that it would have the opportunity to thrust me into the darkness. I could feel my thoughts slipping from me. It was as though the giant force was ripping away at my mind, and everywhere it ripped, it left a scar.

Then, a beacon of light shone through the void. The light had a holy and calling feel to it.

"Alexx," it called out, "Get up! You can't stay like that! Alexx!"

The voice took a harsh tone with me. I wasn't so sure that I wanted to go with this light anymore. I started to allow the giant with the cold hands to force me deeper into the void, when I felt a sudden stinging sensation on my right cheek.

_SMACK._

Yep, the warmth of the slap was enough to offset the cold of the void.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ow," I said, plainly.

"You bet 'Ow,' you jerk! You had us all worried to death!" the voice retorted.

I opened my eyes. Then, I scooted back in my bed a few inches. The Selkies were a very, shall we say, chummy race, which is to say that Selkies weren't exactly worried about personal space, nor do I think that they realize how much the female body's intrusion into this space can... cause a man to feel on edge. This scoot was intended to help me feel as comfortable as it was to make her feel comfortable.

The second thing that I noticed was that I was, in fact, in a bed. I could tell that I was in the dwelling of my close friend's, Skott, for two reasons. For one, the room that I was in was covered in the dissaray of colored cloths that one would characterize as a Selkie sickbay or hospital. The Selkies never seemed to notice that bright and vibrant colors weren't the most relaxing of colors to wake up surrounded in. The vibrant reds, yellows, oranges, and so forth were quite welcoming, though. It's as if the Selkies weren't as concerned about your coming to, as they were about you feeling the warm Selkic energy welcoming you into the world, almost wishing you a clean bill of health. The other giveaway was the mass amount of magicite research books in a heavily medical area. Sometimes, Skott would use his knowledge of magicite to aid his father in the areas in which magic was more useful than the common perscription. Though, moreover, since the hospital bed was usually empty, or moreover, silent, Skott would do his research in this room instead of in the open.

Not getting the hint, Kay leaned forward so that her face was next to my own.

"If you EVER do something so wild as that," she said, referring to my rescue attempt, "I swear, I'll tie you down to your bedside, and make sure you don't ever do anything like that again!"

Which reminded me! The child who I hoped that I was not too late to save!

"Umm..." said a figure that was in the bed next to mine, "I really want to thank you for saving me..."

A shy young lad was sitting next to me. He seemed better off than I was. Or maybe worse. His face was flush, and he looked a bit heated

"Here," he said, presenting me with a box, "I want you to take this!" He shut his eyes as he jammed his present into my presence.

I may not be the best person at accepting gifts. Generally speaking, I don't much care for gifts. I feel, regardless of the feelings of the provider of the gift, indebted to them. I guess this came from growing up in a household where gil was a serious thing. Waste of money was frowned upon by both my mother and my father.

"Actually," I said, putting on my best "older brother" smile that I could, "I'm not sure that I can accept this. If this is a 'thank you' for your rescue, know that your smiling face is reward enough."

"Bu-" he began.

"And," I continued, "if this is a 'get well soon' gift, know that I have every intention of getting better soon, and that it only takes a few days of rest and the best wishes of my friends to get me back on my feet."

"I-"

I smiled again. "Don't worry about it," I said, handing him the box back.

Kay turned to me, an agitated look on her face. She took the box and handed it back to me. She then hit me, somewhat sharply, over the back of the head.

"Ow!" I managed to let slip. I had managed the habit of quickly drying any tears that start to flow from my eyes when I'm knocked in somewhat sensative areas before one could notice them.

"Just take the thing!" she exclaimed.

Thinking that I understood the situation more fully, now, I decided to accept the gift. Slowly, I pulled the cover of the box from the bottom. Inside was a picture, or a sketch, really. It appeared as though a charcoal brush was used in the drawing. The picture showed a Clavat standing with a child in his hand, running from a goblin. The realism of the sketch was remarkable! The goblin's armor was well-textured, and there was evidence of advanced shading technique used on the back and foregrounds of the picture. So great an artist as I could have pretended that I was, I was truly impressed with the detail of the sketch before me.

"You?" I asked, dumbfounded.

Blushing, the child replied, "Yes. I hope that you like it."

Kay and I laughed at that remark. This was, easily, professional work. Only extremely finnicky or picky people could find fault in this picture, and the fact that it was an incredibly young lad that drew the picture made it all the more impressive.

Just then, Skott's father walked into the room. He was wearing the traditional doctor uniform, the robe with the snake devouring its own tail, the Ouroborus, on its back, and the white and red sash across the midsection. Skott's father, Jan Moo, was the town's only doctor. As such, work was always to be had, and he had developed a large degree of experience and skill.

Wasting no time, he rushed to my side, felt the heat from either side of my face, and marked a few, quick notes. Smiling, he turned to his other patient, performing the same actions. After scribbling down a few more notes, he turned back to me and said,

"Well, there seems to be no more fever. I'd just recommend resting here for the rest of the day, and" he added, "there's a corner over there where you can see some sunlight reflected from the town's crystal. It's supposed to have a healing effect."

Turning to the little boy, he said, "And, I think that you're about ready to get on out of here. All of the symptoms of miasma poisoning seem to have disappeared from the two of you surprisingly quickly."

The boy, pleased with the news, jumped up and started to make his way out, probably hoping to get back to his friends.

"Wait!" I called after him, still obeying the "reccomendation" to stay in my bed, "could you tell me your name before you leave?"

The kid turned back to smile, and, almost clumsily, shouted back, "David! I hope that we can be friends, Alexx and Kay!"

The child bowed, slightly, and then ran from the house.

"It's about time that you got up," Nathan said. He had arrived not long after David had left. With him, were Kay and Sqzaj. I was only to have, or, I should say, was only recommended to have, up to, three guests at any given time. I had met with my friends and family by this point, and my current guests were there to keep up conversation with me, and to keep me company.

"What do you mean by 'about time?' Why does everyone keep saying that I made them wait? It's not like I could control when I had awoken from the miasma poisoning."

"Yes, we understand that," Kay said, "But three days of sleep? I couldn't possibly imagine that you were really just sleeping there for that long!" It was Selkie nature to be inheritly restless. Being a Selkie meant that you were unable to sit still for too long a time at once.

"I was asleep for how long?" I shouted. What I thought that I had experienced seemed barely long enough to be called one night's sleep!

"Well," Sqzaj began, "They say that your mind loses complete focus when you succumb to miasma poisoning. Even your dreams are supposed to be obscured when you inhale that amount of miasma." As we were taught, only a few lung-fuls of miasma were all that were required for a terminal diagnosis.

Sqzaj was quite right on that last account. The void that I had seen in my dream was very odd, to say the least. Even the giant with cold hands seemed to be odd, even beyond the fact that it contained a giant with cold hands. There certainly was a twinge of eeriness of the situation.

"Ah, well," I said. "At leat I'll be better in the morning. Then, I can get back to my training without interruption."

"Another whole day?" wondered Kay, aloud. "You just slept for three! Are you sure that you can just sit there for another whole day?" I noticed that she repeated the phrase "another whole day." From the psychology that was taught by my father, many students would find it easy to conclude that Kay could not sit still for five minutes, let alone four days. Even now, as she sat in the bed where David was sleeping, next to Sqzaj and Nathan, she was kicking her feet back and forth, violently, apparently trying to keep herself active. To this, we could merely smile.

Ignoring that comment, I turned to Sqzaj. "Before I passed out, I noticed a pair of feathery hands attached to broad arms and mismatched armor. I guess that I should thank you for coming to my aid."

"It wasn't anything, really. You were just outside of the influence. A gust of wind might have blown you in, had I not picked you up."

"Really," I said, "Must you be so modest? David and I probably wouldn't be here right now, if not for you." This was probably true, and I had no problem thanking the one who saved me, even if the entire event had humbled me to an extent.

"It's the truth!" he shot back. "And besides, it was a team effort. There's no guarantee that either of you would be here, if not for our combined efforts, which includes Nathan's help, as well." When it came to modesty, and to giving credit where credit was due, I think that Sqzaj had me fairly well bested.

I spent the rest of my day of rest conversing with my friends, and bathing in the sacred light of the crystal. The crystal is the defense that we have against the miasma. The entire world is blanketed by miasma, and only a monster or a moogle was physically capable of breathing this noxious air. The miasma is a poison that teems with darkness. The crystal, on the other hand, is a powerful, holy source that purifies a large area, town sized, of miasma, making the area breathable. There was only one drawback of using a crystal, though. Every year, a caravan had to be formed to search for myrrh. With three droplets of myrrh, collected from three seperate holy myrrh trees, one would regenerate the life of the crystal. There were situations in which the crystal died out, but that only happened if the caravan sent fell into peril. Since monsters dislike the influence of the holy crystals, they tend to stay away from the influence of the crystals, and live in areas near myrrh trees, and outside of once-populated areas. Certain monsters, like the goblin that I had felled, were easy to kill. Certain monsters, like the Behemoth, were not as easily felled. This is what makes the pilgrimages so perilous. Some days, you'll find goblins, and others, you'll be surrounded by behemoths. Caravanning wasn't the easiest occupation to fill, but it was the most just, and one of the most important.

Having been out of the hospital for the first time in days, I figured that it was time to get back onto my training. My brief run-in with Ramsey had humbled me more than I would have liked it to, and besides, I still needed to return the favor, in spades. To do this, I needed to train with more than just magical opponents, I needed to train with someone who was physically stronger than I was. Agility and grace, I had. Magical prowess, I had some of. Physical strength and stamina, I was lacking. To remedy the situation, I had decided to spend this particular occasion sparring with one of my good friends, Jorti, the Lilty.


	4. Chapter 4

Lilties are one of the more peculiar races of the four. They were small, and their bodies looked man-like enough, though, they had a flower-like appearance. Lilties tended to come to a bulb at their head. Aside from this, their tiny bodies had flower-like markings. Despite their small stature, the Lilties had incredible strength. What six Clavats could lift, one pre-pubescent Lilty could lift with minimal effort. Though, with the incredible strength that the Lilties possesed, there came an attitude, one that some might refer to "tiny-man syndrome." Of the four races, the Lilties were the most violent, and most easily agitated. The Lilties possessed a strong spirit, and an even more powerful fighting spirit. Where Yuke would look for a friendly, diplomatic approach to conflict, the Lilties would take arms, and attempt to strike down all who oppose what they believe is the just way. This is not to say that all that the Lilties could think of was wanton destruction, but to say that the Lilties were more inclined to look to violence than any other race would be true.

Though, Jorti didn't fit the stereotypical image of the Lilty. Yes, he was naturally violent. Yes, he was incredibly strong. What seperated him from the stereotypical Lilty? He was one of the most amazing chefs that I had ever seen. With a spatula in hand, instead of his usual spear, his culinary skill was almost unparalleled. He possessed a degree of patience and keen observation that one would not expect from a being that is supposedly in a constant state of hot-headedness. Again, I'd like to stress that, even though there was once strife between the races, even the Lilties and Clavats, who were two of the biggest opposing forces, could manage to form some of the greatest kinships.

"Are you sure that you want to go through with this?" my friend asked me, gripping his spear with both hands, a bit nervously.

"Well, when it comes down to it, the Zu that is pushed from its nest has to fly, and if it doesn't, then it had better learn how to land." This was an old saying, but a good one. When it came to Yukic knowledge, even the simplest of phrases can be startlingly good ones.

Granted, I had outdone Jorti several times before in duels, I've never before beaten him unarmed. That was the thought behind my actions. If I could defeat a Lilty, just relying on my own strength, then I believed that a Clavat wouldn't be nearly as much of a challenge. The handicap that I had presented Jorti, was meant to cause me to focus on more than just skill alone, and to teach me to rely on my own inner strength.

"Begin!" shouted Nathan, the onlooker, and, overall, the referee of the bout.

I lunged at Jorti, completely catching him off guard. My speed allowed me to get completely close the seven meter gap inbetween the two of us. Jorti, being an excellent staffsman as well as spearsman, used one of the staff techniques that he had mastered, and employed when there was little room to swing a spear around. He pulled his arms up swiftly, and brought the end of the spear, opposite the blade, towards my midsection, hoping to off-balance me, and then bring the spear down.

Luckily, I had already thought of a plan around this. When he brought his hands up, I caught his hands with my own, and began to force his hands down, face to face with my opponent. He appeared shocked that I would try to over-power a Lilty, and began to throw me backwards, using his superior strength.

Again, luckily, this is what I had planned. When he began to force me forwards, I allowed him to, and flipped over on my back-side. From here, using his own momentum, I threw him into the air above me. Shocked, and a little bit impressed, Jorti didn't seem to have any pre-programmed response for this particular situation. I assume that this was because he wasn't used to having an opponent who carried a simple parry to the next level.

Though, and this time, unluckily, Jorti decided to use more staffsmanship. Whilst in midair, he brought the bladed end of his spear down, in the direction of my chest. I reacted quickly, and rolled to the right, barely missing the blade. For the record, though the chain mail that I was wearing would have protected me from any physical injury, had he landed his blow, I would have lost the duel.

Using my powerful legs, which were easily the greatest weapons that I could have equipped myself with, I caught Jorti's spear while it was still at ground-level. I had leverage enough at this moment to completely overwhelm his incredible strength, and, using this leverage, I pulled his spear from him, and, following through with the motion, I flung his spear aside. Seperating him from his spear, I flipped up and stood between him and his weapon.

This was the plan, and the portion that required the most effort and precision. I ran at Jorti, and leapt into the air only a moment before I would have plowed into him. He raised his powerful arms in defense. I planted each foot squarely in his palms, and tried to apply as much pressure as I could to his hands. To this, he locked his fingers around my feet, and began to throw me. Sensing that the moment was right, I bent over, backwards, putting all of my weight into this one motion. This caught Jorti off-guard, and gave me the window of opportunity that I was looking for. I planted my own hands on the ground, and lifted Jorti up, bringing him into the ground behind me. When I felt his grip slacken on my feet, I sprung onto the ground, and brought my opponent up-right.

Though dazed, he said, "Huh... out-powered three times?"

Laughing, I corrected, "I never over-powered you, I just misdirected your own strength. It was once said that 'One's greatest weakness is pride in his greatest strength.' Though, I would say that this situation is a bit paraphrased."

"Winner," Nathan exclaimed, finally, obviously impressed by my display of quick-wit and strategy, "Alexx!"

Jorti and I turned to each other, and bowed. Pride in victory was admirable. Pride in defeat was virtuous.

Shaking Jorti's hand, I said with much enthusiasm, "Thanks for this! It may not seem like much to you, but getting into the habit of misdirecting strength when fighting will become a valuable asset later on!"

"Yes," Jorti responded, "I suppose it will be."

This was a talent of Jorti's. With his keen sense of obeservation, he was able to mimic most techniques that he had seen or had used against him, and the present situation with misdirection of strength was no exception. This training exercize was as important to me as it was becoming for him.

Later that day, it was decided that my group of friends and I would be having lunch together. Since we were going to be spending a lot of time with each other when we began to caravan, one could call this a training excercize, one could call this conditioning, but this one would call it a meal.

True to the tradition of the group meals, we would each bring in a particular amount of food, and we would all have a picnic. This was a great way to get to know your friends, as well as have a nice, well-rounded meal. Traveling to the outskirts of town, in the more heavily forested area, where we would have our picnic, I brought with me a jar of my father's grilled striped apple slices. It always amazed me to see Ramsey and my father working together to make this meal. Ramsey would use fire magicite to keep a steady fire below my father's smithing station. They would keep the process up until the striped apple would have the same golden look to it that fine bannock had, and a more delicate taste to it than one may have expected.

I spied the location of the picnic. It wasn't that hard to miss, as a griffin wouldn't have missed it from yards in the air. The flamboyant design of the picnic cloths that lay, strewed across the grass could only mean one thing. Kay was the one in charge of cloths this time, and she was obviously the first here. Granted, she was probably only there for fifteen or so minutes, I wouldn't have been able to do what she had done, given three hours.

Though, I didn't see her around. I set my things down where they seemed as though they should go. Suddenly, I felt a brief motion above me, and I heard a rustling in the foilage above me. Tilting my head up to see the disturbance, I felt a presence behind me.

"For someone who can run as fast as you can," she said, "you sure do walk slowly!"

Kay had appeared behind me. Of everyone and anyone that I knew, she was the only person that was able to penetrate my maai without my noticing. When one becomes skilled in combat, one develops an aura, or maai, that can be compared to a pond. The possessor of the maai is at the center of this pond. Any time that someone is to step near you, or penetrate your maai, it's like they're sending ripples through your pond. From the size and location of the ripples, it's easy to find the source, and, if you're familiar with the ripples, you could guess who was in your pond. Only newborn children and extremely skilled swordsmen were supposed to be able to penetrate your maai without your notice, and these, Kay was not. Granted, she knew staffsmanship better than anyone else that I knew, she certainly wasn't a skilled swordswoman. Her ability to subconciously penetrate my maai without my notice both perplexed and scared me. It wasn't something that was done often, and I had hoped that intense training would cause this to go away, but this only made it seem worse. The harder that I looked for her, the more she seemed to dissapear.

"Hello, Kay," I started, a bit startled by her presence, "though I appreciate your kind words, could you please not sneak up on me like that? I've told you before, when people, which only includes you at the moment, sneak up on me, my heart tends to beat a little bit faster than my legs can move."

"Maybe a little bit of heart and leg racing would do you some good every once in a while?" she said, dismissing, again, her ability.

We were the first two to arrive. Next was Nathan, then Sqzaj, then Jorti. We waited a few more minutes for Skott to arrive, and just as we were about to sit down and eat without him, he arrived, looking more exhausted than sorry.

"I'm sorry," Skott offered as an excuse, "It just didn't seem dark enough to call noon, and I didn't want to seem like I had shown up too early, as we all know how much Kay likes to decorate the place."

"It's not a problem. Don't worry about it," I said. I wasn't about to go and point out that the brightest part of the day was noon, but I believed that Skott knew this, and was just looking for a way not to say that he had spent his day reading, and only now realized that he was supposed to be here.

We unpacked everything, and we got down to the core of the gathering. The food.

I had brought the delicious grilled striped apples, Nathan had brought his mother's incredible gourd potato stew, Kay did the setting up, and a fine job at that, Sqzaj brought his family's star carrot cake, and Skott brought the fruit of the labor of another past-time of his. He had a cow, named Berry. Berry was a good cow, and her milk was some of the richest that I had ever had, so Skott's addition to the picnic was nothing that one would blow their nose at.

Who would blow their nose at an instance? This was one of the sayings that I tried to aviod using. Believe it or not, this is a Clavatan saying. In elder times, when one would sneeze, since sneezing was connotated with sickness, the elders thought that the point of the sneeze was to rid the body of miasma that found its way through the crystal's barrier. If one were to blow their noze at someone or something, it was as though they had fired a burst of miasma. As such, it would make sense for one not to want to be in the line of fire for poisoning. Of course, now we knew that miasma wouldn't get through the barrier, and sickness was from eating bad food, or drinking something wrong that smelled odd, but the saying stuck. I often wonder how language pulls stunts like this, and I often wonder how sayings that had their meanings stripped from them continued to thrive like this. Though, I must say that I now sympathize with the older sayings, because forgetting the meaning of the phrase meant forgetting a part of your own life and social interactions, as well as a piece of your own history.

The meal was incredible. I daresay that meal was one of the finest that I had ever had, and it was made all the better by the company of my good friends. When it was over, we sat under the trees and conversed. What about, I can't remember any more. Though, the conversation must have been stimulating, because as soon as it was done, and our stomachs had time enough to settle, we got to the next best event of the day.


End file.
